


Witches Are Bitches

by allofspace



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-02
Updated: 2013-03-02
Packaged: 2017-12-04 01:13:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/704776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allofspace/pseuds/allofspace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam gets cursed by a witch and finds out something Dean is not ready to share. Because Dean Winchester does not DO feelings.<br/>Possible spoilers if you aren't caught up with the show to mid season 8.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Witches Are Bitches

**Author's Note:**

> *thank you to my dear Audrey who beta'd the crap out of this to make it readable*

“It’s not about him being in a dude’s body, Sam!” Dean growls, tired of this endless conversation. “It’s about him being an angel, okay? An angel from heaven,” he tries to reinforce again. Dean doesn’t understand what Sam isn’t getting. 

“Dean, I get it. He’s an angel. He’s also your best friend. The best friend you’ve ever had.” Sam tries to sound reasonable but he’s still grating on Dean’s nerves. His back is facing Sam, so he half turns to roll his eyes at Sam. Sam is looking back at him with a glare that’s verging on a bitch-face. 

“Sam,” Dean says, tired of being angry about this. “I just… can’t. I can’t do anything about this okay? There’s no good solution here, there’s no happy ending. That shit just doesn’t happen to us.”

“No, Dean, you just won’t _let_ it happen to you.”

They stare at each other a few moments. Dean is biting the inside of his lower lip, not wanting to say or do anything more that might let this get out of hand. 

“This conversation is over, Sam,” he says quietly when he’s able to speak without his voice wavering. He turns around and leaves the Men of Letters lair. The Impala is waiting for him outside, calling to him and it’s the only therapy he’s ever needed. He likes the feeling of familiarity after whatever the hell kind of conversation that was. 

He never wanted to kill a witch more than he did right now. Being thrown against walls and having his life threatened is nothing compared to the complete invasion of privacy of Sam being able to hear his thoughts. He didn’t understand the stupid curse; it wasn’t even a helpful telepathic connection where he’d be able to send Sam his thoughts or something. It read some sort of baseline of your consciousness or some shit. 

Dean scoffs out loud as he recalls the words they’d been reading in their research. They hadn’t gotten very far as Sam didn’t seem to have any control over this new found power. When Sam had first noticed it, he said it was like hearing mumbles that were rolling around in the back of a person’s brain. That person mostly being Dean now. They had gone for lunch and Sam almost made a scene because he couldn’t concentrate on anything due to the background noise from all the people, so they decided to keep away from big crowds.

On the drive back, Sam tried to explain it to Dean. He said he could hear bits and pieces about Dean being hungry and worried and nauseous and angry. It wasn’t until they were doing research that the worst part happened. They were reading some ancient hoodoo books when Sam whipped his head up. 

“What is it?” Dean had asked, because he figured Sam had found something useful. 

“Uhh, nothing. Are you, um, distracted?” Sam had said.

“Uh, no?” Dean said, wanting to get back to reading. This shit was annoying because he could think something like “shut the fuck up, Sammy” and try and direct it at him but get no reaction, yet a small tug in his stomach at the first signs of hunger had Sam asking what he wanted for dinner. Most of the time he wasn’t even sure what Sam was hearing, because they weren’t even solid thoughts that Dean was thinking. 

Sam gave him a small shrug and went back to reading. Dean was trying to concentrate on the words in front of him, but he really wasn’t able to, not that he’d admit it. There were lots of things running around his mind and he was sure they must be distracting to Sam so he rubbed his eyes and really tried to focus. Later, after they’d eaten, Dean went into his room. He sat on his bed and linked his fingers in his lap. 

“Hey, Cas, hope you can hear me. Hope you’re doing okay. Please come back soon,” Dean whispered, barely audible. Dean had been praying to Cas a lot lately. Sometimes they were longer messages, and sometimes they were like these. Just a few short sentences to let Cas know – if he was hearing them at all – that they were worried about him. That Dean was worried about him. They hadn’t heard from Cas in a while now and Dean tried to push the worst-case scenarios to the back of his mind.

He went back to their research table where Sam was already opening a new book and got back to work. He was able to concentrate a bit better after eating, finally making some progress. Just as he was going to tell Sam some helpful information about finding the witch, Sam coughed, and Dean could tell what kind of cough that was. It was a “Sam wants to talk about something awkward” cough. Dean rolled his eyes.

“What now?” Dean said, expecting another complaint about Dean’s underlying thoughts about being tired or wanting some scotch or something.

“Have you told him?” Sam asked. And that wasn’t what Dean was expecting.

“Told who what, Sam?” Dean said, confused, but his heart rate was quickening. 

“Told Cas,” Sam answered quietly, and Dean froze. “That you love him.”

Dean couldn’t move, he just stared. He wasn’t sure if he’d even been breathing for the few long seconds of silence. 

“What?” Dean said, if only to break the silence. He put on his best “what the fuck are you on about” face, but he didn’t feel like he was pulling it off. 

“Dean, don’t pretend like suddenly this curse or whatever isn’t working the same as it has been all day.”

“Oh, what, so you heard that in my subconscious or something? Give me a break, Sam,” Dean said, unsure if he was trying to reason with himself or Sam. It’s not like he’d ever had that word and Cas in the same thought. Sure, he was worried about the guy and obviously cared about his well-being. Maybe the signals were just getting confused, they didn’t even know how this curse worked. “Look, I just tried sending him a message earlier, I was worried about him, that’s probably all you were reading off me. Get back to reading.”

“No,” Sam said, folding his hands together on the table and looking right at Dean. 

“There’s some witch on the loose who put a curse on you, but you don’t care because you want to talk about my feelings? Am I getting this right?” Dean was starting to get a bit angry; this was not the time for any sort of revelation or confession. 

“Dean. The witch will still be wherever the hell she is now if we take a few minutes to talk about this.”

Dean figured Sam could probably read the anger rising in Dean and was trying to project calmness. It wasn’t working. 

“Look, I know you two have been through a lot,” Sam continued while Dean just stared, trying to remember to breathe evenly. “And now it all kind of makes sense actually. Dad’s not around anymore. You don’t have to prove anything.”

“This has nothing to do with Dad!” Dean snapped. 

“Dean, I’ve noticed how much happier you are with being yourself lately. It’s… awesome. Seriously.”

“I seriously have no idea what you’re talking about,” Dean said, rubbing his forehead. 

“Dean, it’s okay. If you’re… gay or whatever. It’s cool,” Sam said, and Dean deadpanned. He decided that the witch definitely had trapped them in a teen drama where one psychi

“Dude, I’m not gay,” Dean said firmly. He wasn’t going to deny that he was sometimes attracted to guys. And maybe Sam wasn’t totally off point with the Dad thing. “I don’t know what I am. I’ve kind of given up trying to label myself, or whatever. Most of the time I find girls attractive but sometimes I find guys attractive,” Dean said, trying not to freak out about the fact this was the first time he was admitting his less-than-straight tendencies out loud. It was easier to say than he ever thought it would be. Saying it out loud seemed to loosen some knot he’d had in his stomach. “Are we done here?”

“Have you ever been with a guy before?” Sam asked, and Dean could finally feel awkwardness coming from Sam. Finally he wasn’t the only one totally weirded out by this. 

“No,” Dean said quietly. That was all he’d give Sam as an answer, because he wasn’t about to get into the porn he’s watched. 

“Why haven’t you said anything to Cas?”

“Because he’s an angel, Sam. I think he’s got bigger shit to worry about than my sexuality crisis.”

“I meant about you being in love with him, Dean,” Sam huffed.

“I… I don’t love him, Sam. Don’t be ridiculous,” Dean said, looking down at the book under his hands. Sam looked at him with disbelief. Yeah, Dean wouldn’t have bought that either. 

“Are you afraid of being with a guy?”

Dean was getting tired of the questions, he felt like they were running in circles. 

“It’s not about him being in a dude’s body, Sam! It’s about him being an angel, okay? An angel from heaven.”  
~*~

Dean’s grip tightens on the steering wheel as he recounts the whole thing. What did Sam want him to do? Cas wasn’t even answering his prayers, so what good would it be trying to have some sort of meaningful talk, when he didn’t even know if Cas was alive. Fuck, no. Cas was alive. Dean couldn’t start thinking that way or he’d probably have a meltdown. 

Dean had never even thought the exact words to himself before, but yeah, maybe he was a little bit… in love. With Cas. An angel. He’s fucked. He breathes out a nervous huff and rubs his face with one hand. He pulls onto the shoulder of the fairly empty highway road. He needs to take a second to think. There’s no point running away from Sam; he’s going to have to face him sooner or later. Dean thinks there’s nothing worse Sam could over hear from his subconscious now anyway. He sighs and resigns to turn the car around and head back to home base when there’s a knock on the window.  
~*~

Dean wakes up and can’t see a thing. It’s pitch black and he thinks that his vision is blurry even before his eyes start to adjust. He can see a few outlines of shapes, nothing helpful though. Then he feels the pain in his shoulders, tense and strained. Then the burn on his wrists. He’s tied up to the ceiling and probably has been for a while judging by the pain he’s feeling from the rope. 

“Shit,” he breathes. He hears a door open behind him and light leaks through the gap. It sounds like a heavy steel or iron door, which shuts again after a couple of footsteps. The light disappears and Dean blinks his eyes, trying to readjust again.

“You’re awake. Excellent,” comes a voice that sounds too cheerful for his situation. There are more footsteps and then suddenly candles being illuminating the room. Two by two, they light up on each side of the long hall he seems to be in. The footsteps continue until a figure is standing infront of him wearing a hooded cloak. Dean knows it’s the witch they had the brief encounter with earlier. She takes off the hood and Dean is surprised to see the face of a young blonde who he might have found pretty under other circumstances. The glow from the candles almost makes her look soft, until the sweet smile on her face turns into a sneer. 

“Dean Winchester. So glad we could finally get the chance to chat,” she says running a finger down Dean’s chest and making him grimace. 

“What the fuck do you want?” Dean spits. 

“No need to be so hostile,” the witch replies sweetly. “I need your blood for a spell. I thought I’d have some fun getting it.” 

“And your idea of fun, is what, having my little brother figure out my deepest secrets?” Dean tries to sound as if he doesn’t care and that he could do this all day, but his arms are going numb and he is fighting to stay conscious. 

“Actually, it was good fun. I could hear everything that Sam heard,” she gives Dean a feral grin, and Dean swallows hard. “I figured I’d get something from you that I could use against you,” she says as she starts collecting things from the walls of the room. “Something to lure you away, because god knows I wouldn’t be able to take on both of you.” She places various things infront of him: hex bags, engraved bowls, other things Dean can’t make out in the darkness. 

“But one of you… alone… unsuspecting… I could deal with that,” she says and stops moving about for a moment. “I mean, to be honest, I thought I had high hopes when I thought maybe you’d have a girlfriend I could put in harm’s way or something. But an angel? Wow, don’t you have high standards,” she says, poking him in the chest with a dark smile and he tries not to flinch away.

Dean doesn’t reply, only rolls his eyes and tries to ignore her condescending tone. 

“Can you even imagine how much all those feathery assholes are laughing at you up there?” She laughs and it’s almost a giggle. He tries not to think about the picture she’s painting for him. “A petty human like you, in love with an angel of the Lord,” she says and brings a dagger out from underneath her cloak. She runs it along Dean’s cheek. Dean clenches his fists as much as he can with what feeling he has left in those extremities. He grits his teeth and knows he shouldn’t let her get to him, but she’s voicing the fear’s he’s been having himself. Castiel is an angel and what interest would he have in Dean? Sure they had a “profound bound” and pretty much every evil bastard they’ve run into has made a remark about their relationship, but it didn’t change the fact that Dean was just a hunter. 

“I mean, you know he could never love you back, right?” The witch continues, and Dean wants to punch her in the face. He’s tied up high enough that just his toes of his boots touch the ground, but not enough to give him any break from the strain on his arms. “Angels aren’t programmed that way.” Dean feels the words digging into his head. “Then again, Castiel isn’t programmed normally anyway right? That’s right, I’ve heard of him. He betrayed heaven and his brothers and sisters and caused a shit storm up there. And now he’s AWOL, isn’t he?” Her voice is colder, but she’s still smiling and it gives Dean shivers.

Dean doesn’t answer and just stares at her. She doesn’t want an answer anyway. Dean knows she’s trying to get under his skin and Dean is willing it not to work, but it’s hard. It’s hard not to let her words sink into him and be the final straw on the pile of self-deprecation he’s been carrying his whole life. But the words about Cas made him angry, probably irrationally so. Hell, Dean had been angry at Cas for the shit he pulled, but that was way behind them now. And he was sort of AWOL, but Dean had been telling himself it was just a matter of time. Cas had to come back soon, he always did. But he’s raw from his conversation with Sam and he doesn’t want to think about Cas anymore. It just keeps hurting. And this bitch is twisting the knife even further. 

It’s silent for a while and Dean is losing the battle with himself. He’s tired and feeling hopeless and hates himself for it. He doesn’t know what he is saying next when he urges her on. He just wants this to fucking end. 

“Do it. Just fucking do it already,” Dean bites out, using the last bit of energy he has to try and piss her off.

“Gladly,” says the witch, her sweet tone faltering slightly. She bends down to pick up one of the engraved bowls and she’s standing on a chalk symbol on the floor. She holds the bowl up to Dean’s neck and presses the blade to his throat. Dean tenses and immediately regrets not stalling more. Sam had to have noticed by now that Dean was gone too long. Maybe he’d found the Impala and was able to track them. He should’ve given Sam more time, but it’s too late now. He presses his eyes shut as she adds more pressure when Dean hears a number of things at the same time: a flutter of wings that wrenches his eyes open, a clang of the dagger, and a gasp from the witch. But when he sees Sam in front of him stabbing the witch, Dean is momentarily confused. He feels an arm around his torso, and the rope around his hands is cut. His body collapses, but instead of hitting the hard floor he’s expecting, he lands on a soft bed, with a hand still pressing on his stomach. The dim light of the room is too much for Dean’s eyes after the prolonged candlelight. He tries to concentrate and briefly sees an outline he recognizes. Cas. Then he falls asleep.  
~*~

Dean wakes up in a dark room, but it feels familiar. He is comfortable and relaxed and it takes him a few moments before he remembers what happened last time he was conscious. He gets up and opens the door. It’s quiet but he thinks he hears something from the kitchen. He walks in to find Sam making some eggs and toast. Sam looks up and gives a soft smile at Dean, then hands him a cup of coffee. 

“Thanks,” Dean says and his voice sounds rough, like he hasn’t used it in a while. As he reaches out to accept the cup, he sees his wrists and remembers the pain he’d felt there but there are no marks. He rubs the wrist holding the coffee cup with his other hand. 

“Cas fixed that. And anything else he could,” Sam says. Dean just nods, sipping his coffee. He tries to remember what had happened, and when he does, he hopes Sam hadn’t heard Dean giving up. 

“How long have I been out?” Dean asks.

“Almost a whole day. Want some lunch?”

Only then does Dean’s stomach growl and he raises an eyebrow at Sam. “Hey, you can’t still hear my subconscious or whatever, right?” Dean asks, a bit paranoid. 

Sam smiles. “Nope,” he says as he hands a plate to Dean. 

“Good.” Dean sits at the table to eat and Sam joins him a minute later. They eat quietly and it’s comfortable and Dean still feels relaxed until he remembers that, shit, Cas was here. And now he’s not. And he saved Dean and just flies off again? That is so not cool. And how much does he know now? And how did he even know to get Sam and where to bring him?

“God dammit,” Dean says, forgetting he’s speaking out loud. Sam looks up at him with a confused face and Dean continues. “Alright, so? What happened? Where’s Cas?”

“Cas had to just go out for a bit. He said he’d be back soon.”

“Uh huh,” Dean says, allowing himself to be annoyed now that he knows Cas is alive. 

“Last night I was getting pretty worried when you didn’t come back and I was getting ready to steal a car and go look for you when Cas just… popped in. He said you were in trouble and that he knew where you were so I got we got what we needed and he zapped us in there with you.”

“Uh huh…” Dean says again, slower this time. He and Cas really need to have a talk. Dean tells himself this talk will be strictly about Cas being an asshole who was ignoring him and nothing about the little revelation Sam forced him to have last night. 

Later, Dean is looking through his record collection when he hears a familiar rumble outside. Shit, he totally forgot to ask Sam about his baby. He completely forgot that he’d been driving it when he’d been abducted. He hurries outside and sees Cas stepping out of the car. Dean’s only wearing sweatpants, a t-shirt, and socks but goes up the steps anyway. Cas is leaning on the hood and Dean laughs to himself. 

“You drove it back? Couldn’t you have just like, zapped it with you?”

“I figured I’d give you some time to eat and wake up,” Cas says with a relaxed voice. “She runs excellently.”

“Yeah, well, if you got even a scratch on her,” Dean tries to sound threatening but he’s got too big a mix of other emotions going on inside him right now. 

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Cas says, smiling, but Dean can’t handle this small talk anymore. 

“Where the hell have you been, Cas?” Dean knows he probably sounds pathetic, but he can’t help it. Seeing Cas is like getting a drink of water in the desert. He feels less hopeless, but it mixes with the sense that he’ll lose him again soon. 

“I’m sorry Dean. I didn’t mean to be gone so long,” Cas says, and Dean sees that he really is apologetic. His heart tugs a bit and he bites his lip. He walks closer and leans on the hood beside Cas. “I heard you every time you called to me, Dean. I’m sorry I couldn’t come,” Cas says and turns his head to look at Dean. The sun is high and the light is hitting Cas in a complimentary way.

Dean looks at him for a while before saying, “I understand. It’s okay.”

“It’s not, but I’m glad you’re not upset with me,” Cas says, a small smile tugging at his lips. Dean can tell he wants them to go back to being light-hearted, but Dean doesn’t feel ready yet. 

“Who says I’m not upset with you?” Dean says, wiping the smile from Cas’ face. 

“It’s over now, Dean. Things in heaven are sorted out. Well... for now anyway. We’ve reached a sort of equilibrium,” Cas tries to explain.

Dean wants to forgive him, he does. Especially after hearing things might be okay up there for once. So Dean nods, which he hopes conveys to Cas that he agrees it’s a good thing, and that he understands why Cas was gone. 

“How did you know I was in trouble?” Dean asks next.

Cas looks almost confused. “Dean, I’ve been keeping tabs on you. I would have left heaven in a second had you ever been in real trouble.”  
Dean just nods again because he can’t process the tone of Cas’ voice. 

“I checked in and you were unconscious in a bunker with a witch, so I got Sam,” Cas explains, like it was obvious. 

“How much did you hear?” Dean asks, deciding to get it over with like ripping off a band-aid. 

Cas takes a moment then smiles to himself. Dean wonders what he’s smiling at. 

“I didn’t hear anything I didn’t already know, Dean. Though I suppose it was nice to hear it out loud, even if it was coming from a witch,” Cas says and Dean tries to take it in. It hits him that Cas is saying he knows, and the he seems to be fine with it. Dean wants to smile about it with Cas, but it still kind of stings. It’s not like Dean would have expected Cas to take it badly, but he hadn’t exactly pictured the situation much. He hadn’t really planned on Cas ever finding out just how much he cares, but he hadn’t expected it to be like this. He obviously hadn’t expected the continued feeling of his heart tightening in his chest, and he no longer wants to be out here when the day is beautiful and everything looks so nice and peaceful. He wants to go back into his dark room and he feels like an idiot because he realizes he wants to sulk. 

“Look, I get if you don’t wanna hang around any longer. Thanks for bringing the car back,” Dean says, and watches Cas’ face fall. “And for saving my life. That was good timing,” Dean adds belatedly. Cas is staring at him with the confused face and the tilted head that Dean hasn’t seen in far too long. 

Dean turns to walk away but Cas grabs his wrist. “Dean,” he says, seriously. Dean looks down at the ground as he turns and then looks back up at Cas. He’s not sure what he sees there, but he could swear it’s almost anger. 

“You,” Cas says slowly and Dean is nervous about what is coming, “are an idiot.” Dean doesn’t have time to be surprised because Cas has yanks him by his wrist and their bodies are flush against each other and Cas’ mouth is moving roughly against his own. Dean doesn’t have time to wonder where this came from because he’s busy realizing how long he’s wanted this and his hand is gripping dark, messy hair and there’s still a hand tight on his wrist, and another on his waist.

They finally break apart and Dean is gasping for air. His fists are gripping the fabric of Cas’ trenchcoat tightly. His mind is reeling again as he tries to figure out what just happened. He leans back to look at Cas, because Cas’ hands on his waist won’t let him actually step back.

Dean stares into Cas’ eyes, looking for something, anything to let Dean know what’s going on. His eyes glance at Cas’ lips, which are wet and pink and it’s not helping Dean concentrate at all. 

“I… what?” Dean says as he looks back up to Cas’ eyes. 

Cas just rolls his eyes and says, “I’m in love with you too, you ass.”

And okay, Dean was really not expecting that and he blames it on the amount of self-doubt he’s been having since that talk with Sam and then the witch. Dean is forced to agree that yeah, maybe he is an idiot, but it’s not like there’s a manual on how to deal with falling in love with your best friend who happens to be angel that saved you from hell one time. 

“Oh,” is all Dean can actually think to say. And he actually laughs when Cas rolls his eyes again. He realizes that he’s still clutching Cas’ lapel and lets go, stretching his hands a bit. Then he slowly places his hands flat against Cas’ chest instead. It’s weird that there are suddenly new boundaries between them and he doesn’t know what they are. He doesn’t even know what he wants them to be. He doesn’t know if he wants any at all, but that’s probably still the post-kiss high talking. Cas is still gripping his waist tight, like if he lets go Dean will run. Dean’s starting to get uncomfortable under Cas’ gaze and being so close and not saying anything and even though they got the most awkward thing out of the way, he’s still pretty sure this is awkward. 

“Hey, ok, loosen the death-grip there, Cas,” Dean says moving his hands to cover Cas’. Cas does loosen his grip and Dean slowly removes the hands from his waist, holding them in between him and Cas instead. “How about we go inside now, okay? My feet are sort of freezing,” Dean says, wondering how he’s staying so calm. 

Cas just nods in agreement and Dean means to turn and lead them inside, but Cas only lets go of one hand. He keeps the other hand in his, intertwining their fingers. Dean faces forward quickly to hide his stupidly goofy grin and definitely not to hide the blush rising in his cheeks because there isn’t one. He risks a glance over his shoulder as he walks and regrets it immediately because Cas looks smug and happy. Dean rolls his eyes and huffs a small laugh.

Dean has no idea where this leaves them. He and Sam are still trying to close the gates of hell, but Cas says he’s sticking around so hopefully he’ll be of some help. They haven’t heard from Kevin in a while, so they’ve been taking small jobs to keep occupied. Dean suddenly feels less like he needs work distractions. It may or may not have to do with the fact that he and Cas are acting like teenagers, making out in corners and hallways, pretending to be embarrassed when Sam catches them and groans in disgust. Dean knows the happiness won’t last long, but for now things are good. And Dean is happy to leave them that way for as long as he can.


End file.
